


the heathen in the house of dragons

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bible Salesman Verse, Crack, Creepy Crack, Gen, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing Rhaella had come to appreciate about her brother, it was that throughout all his ups and downs and twists and turns and strange, strange phases, he was consistent about religion.  Aerys made it clear long, long ago that no gods or prophets would cross his doorstep. </p><p>And then that cult came to town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the heathen in the house of dragons

If there was one thing Rhaella had come to appreciate about her brother, it was that throughout all his ups and downs and twists and turns and strange, strange phases, he was consistent about  _religion._ Aerys made it clear long, long ago that no gods or prophets would cross his doorstep.  There’d be no Christmas tree, no Easter baskets, no ashes on the forehead in February.  All they had were the names that Viserys used to tangle up til he started speech therapy—Vhagar, Meraxes and Balerion, Vermithor and Tessarion, Syrax and Caraxes—and the dragon statues, dragon toys, dragon tapestries, dragon moldings on the wall.  It was embarrassing, certainly.  But it was consistent.

And then  _he_ came to call.

*

A few months back, a strange group of people had bought a house near the Target and painted it half black, half white.  ”The House of Black and White,” they called it.  It seemed reasonable enough to Rhaella until she’d found out who they were.

"They’re heathens," Bonifer commented as they drove past the building after Sunday brunch at Friendly’s one day.  "They’re here to do the Devil’s work.  I’m telling you, Satan Himself sent those people here."

"What do you mean?" Rhaella had said.  

"They’re some sort of…cult, I guess," he’d answered.  "They claim to worship the gods of death.  Gods.  Not God.  They’re pagan heathens, and we’re all going to need to start being careful with those people around here.  You should keep an eye on Dany and Viserys."

Rhaella had rolled her eyes.  She was full of breakfast sausage and sore from her night spent with her sweet salesman, and wasn’t interested in doing much else other than taking a lazy sip of her leftover iced tea.  She reached over and rubbed the softness that was Bonifer’s belly.

"You’re in no place to judge what’s right and wrong," she’d told him.  "You sinned with me last night. And twice this morning, remember?"

His grin spread slow and easy across his face til it matched hers.  ”That was no sin,” he’d said, taking her hand.  ”When I wake up and see an angel like you, I remember I’m already in Heaven.”

And  _that_  was  _that._

But every time Rhaella had driven by the House of Black and White after that, she got an uneasy feeling in her gut.  Too many people went in and out of there, and she never saw the same person twice.  They all looked so ordinary that it almost seemed unreal, like it was all a strange episode of the Twilight Zone.

But then the Heathen started coming to call.

And Aerys let him in.

There was nothing ordinary about this one, not in the slightest.  He drove a Dodge Challenger (a 1973, he’d told them), which seemed awfully conspicuous for an agent of Satan.  His hair was the color of Aerys’s on one side, and a rich shade of red on the other (with no sign of roots, ever; Rhaella always checked).  He had an unplaceable accent (probably fake) and the most annoying habit of speaking about himself in the third person, which Rhaella expected Aerys to make fun of, but he never did.

He liked the Heathen.  He liked the Heathen enough to invite him for dinner once, twice, and then again and again.  And the Heathen— _Jaqen_  was his name—ate whatever he was served.  His table manners were impeccable.  He was absurdly polite—gallant, even, obsequious.  But Rhaella didn’t like the smirk in his pale blue eyes.  And she certainly didn’t like the questions Aerys asked him about the boundaries between death and life, about out-of-body experiences, about the flexibility of the human form…

"I’m worried about you, sweet princess," Bonifer kept saying.  "You and the kids with those agents of the Devil under your roof?  Don’t you understand what could happen?"

But Rhaella refused to let on how worried she was.  She was a Targaryen, and a strong one at that.  If Targaryens didn’t believe in God, then how could they believe in the Devil?  Didn’t they come in a matching set?

But then that one night—it was all too much.  Rhaegar was home for dinner that evening, and even  _he_ didn’t mouth off in front of Jaqen.  In fact, Rhaegar engaged him in a rather animated conversation about whether Jimmy Page could be considered a  _virtuoso._ Her heart sank.

Her heart didn’t begin to start pounding against her ribcage until dinner was winding down.  Rhaella studied Aerys’s face as he listened to Jaqen monologuing in that quiet voice he had, and for the first time she recognized it,  _really_  recognized it.  He was looking at Jaqen the same way he always looked at Tywin, as though he had one claw ready to pounce and the other claw pulled back, frightened but not quite as frightened as he should be.

Rhaella pushed her chair back from the table so sharply everyone turned to stare at her.

"I’m going to clear the table and then take Vis and Dany for ice cream," she blurted out.  "This conversation seems a little  _adult_ for them.  Sound good?”

"A man’s wife is very dedicated," Jaqen commented, even though  _no one had asked for his goddamn opinion._ "A man should tell her so more often, doesn’t he think?"  And he  _winked_  at Aerys.

Rhaella filled the dishwasher in record time and piled Dany and Viserys into the car with Dany still barefoot.  She made sure to linger as long as she could in the ice-cream parlor.  She had a terrible, terrible feeling.

But when she drove up their street with Dany singing happily in the back of the car, she saw the Challenger, still parked neatly outside the house.  The downstairs lights were off.  The upstairs lights were on.

"Dragons!" Rhaella said, trying to keep her voice from sounding too loud, too  _anything_.  ”I know this is crazy, but…Let’s get more ice cream!  What do you think?”

"YAY!" Viserys and Dany screamed from the backseat as Rhaella u-turned and drove like  _hell_  down the street, ten miles too fast for their neighborhood.

She wondered if the jewelry store at the mall was still open.  It might be time to start wearing a cross.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, hit up http://i57.tinypic.com/2z542e9.jpg for a sweet picture of Jaqen's car ;)


End file.
